


Darkness will be rewritten

by Lunannex



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, fluff if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunannex/pseuds/Lunannex
Summary: "So, Mister Parker,” Tony starts and fuck, not again-Peter's grip on the glass between his fingers tightens a fraction then. "Hm?" He responds warily, peeking up at the billionaire hesitantly.Tony scoffs. “Jesus, stop looking at me like I kicked your puppy. Despite what that little nogging of yours might be thinking, I didn't bring you here to scold you or anything."
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 138





	Darkness will be rewritten

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify, this takes place like two months or so after Homecoming👍

Out of all the things that Peter expected when he walked out of Decathlon practice, seeing Tony Stark’s car waiting for him in the pick-up line certainly wasn’t one of them.

"I thought you didn't have the internship today?" Ned asks, looking towards the car in curiosity. 

Peter stops in his tracks and tilts his head. "I...didn't?" He replies hesitantly.

Ned gasps and whips around to face him, eyes shining with wonder. "Oh my god, do you think it's a mission? Man, that would be _so_ cool-" 

"I doubt that it is but...I don't know." Peter cuts him off absentmindedly, frowning when he doesn’t see any missed calls or messages on his phone. "Um- guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" He waves at Ned with a light smile as he walks backwards towards the Audi, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

"Yeah, yeah, bye Peter!" Ned grins at him over his shoulder before running off.

"Bye!" Peter smiles as he opens the back door of the car, pursing his lip nervously. “Happy, I thought the internship wasn’t-“ He cuts himself off and nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees who’s actually sitting at front. “O-Oh.” He breaths out softly. 

Tony twists in his seat and gives him a lazy salute, grinning amusedly. "Hey there, Spiderboy, you doing good?"

Peter gapes like a fish out of water before blinking himself into reality. He stammers out a mumbled apology as he closes the door. "Um, hey Mister Stark…y-yeah, I'm- I'm doing fine…” He gnaws at his lower lip and shakes his head. "Sorry, but what are you doing here? Is something wrong? Is there a mission, or-“

"-Nope, no mission, nothing wrong. Jesus, cool your jets, kid."

“Then why…" He gestures to Tony's entire... _being_ in confusion.

"I'm taking you out to eat.” Tony simply shrugs.

Peter furrows his eyebrows and blinks. "...Okay?”

On any other occasion, the idea of going out to eat with _Iron Man_ himself would have him practically vibrating out of his seat. But today, well, he couldn’t help the wave of unease that washed over him, only because it came out of absolutely nowhere. He couldn’t really think of a reason as to why Tony Stark would want to go out to eat with him of all people. Unless he’d done something wrong and Tony was here to scold him but- Peter couldn’t recall any recent situation where he’d fucked up, at least none that he was aware of anyways. That and Tony seemed to look pretty at ease. Well, he assumed anyways, it was sorta hard to tell with the tinted sunglasses.

"Well don't look too excited." Tony rolls his eyes and snickers. "Now come on, what are you hanging around in the back for? Front and center, kid, chop-chop. We don't have all day." He pats the passenger seat twice, arching an expectant brow at him. 

Once Peter’s already settled in the passenger’s seat, seatbelt tucked and all, Tony pulls out of the parking lot. "How was school?" He asks, eyes trained on the road in front of them.

"Oh, uh- it was good…" Peter rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

Tony glances at him from the corner of his eye skeptically. "Just good?"

"I aced my algebra test, if that matters."

"Congrats. Hey, do you like Italian by any chance?” He asks abruptly.

“What- I, um- yes?” Peter fiddles with the backpack between his feet and bites the inside of his cheek.

Tony nods. “Good.”

~

It's only until they're already mostly done with their food— which, admittedly, was really good —that Tony's real motives start to shine through. And in that time, Peter has had eight separate panic attacks from how utterly _awkward_ it's been. Well, okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but his point still stands. The stilled small talk was absolutely _killing_ him.

"So, Mister Parker,” Tony starts and _fuck, not again-_

Peter's grip on the glass between his fingers tightens a fraction then. "Hm?" He responds warily, peeking up at the billionaire hesitantly.

Tony scoffs. “Jesus, stop looking at me like I kicked your puppy. Despite what that little nogging of yours might be thinking, I didn't bring you here to scold you or anything."

And just like that, the confusion is back. "Then why’d you bring me here? Because, no offense, sir, but this doesn't really…seem like something that you would exactly do." 

"What can I say? I'm spontaneous like that." Tony smirks.

Peter tries not to roll his eyes. "That's not an answer." He deadpans.

Tony snorts, shaking his head fondly. "Smartass." Then, he takes a deep breath. He folds his arms on top of the table and looks out the window, slight discomfort shining in his eyes. “Okay, I'll level with you, kid. I'm...worried." He admits.

Peter blinks and huffs out a bewildered laugh. "What, why?”

"Why do you think?" Tony spares him a single glare before looking away again. "I can tell you're trying to keep it all under wraps but trust me, kid, you're not doing nearly as good of a job as you think you are.”

"What are you- Mister Stark, I'm-"

"Peter..." Tony looks at him with a frown.

"I really don't know what you want me to tell you." Peter says, a tinge of desperation slipping into his tone. Sometimes he hates that he's such an open book. Because that just means that he's fairly obvious in all things involving emotions, which only risks the possibility of more people knowing just how fucked up he really is.

"I want you to tell me the truth, kid. Because you're obviously not okay and that's-" He closes his eyes and exhales sharply, rolling his jaw afterwards. "That's _worrying_ , okay?" The words sound as if they physically pain him to say.

Peter tries to keep his face carefully blank as he stares at the worn tablecloth, considering. "Let's say there was something wrong…" He starts hesitantly and sits up straighter. "Not saying that there is, just like, hypothetically, what then? What do you expect me to do? Talk to _you?"_ He spits out, tone hard. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest and the ache in his fingers from how tight he’s gripping his cup, but even so he still glares at the man in front of him. “God, why do you even _care_ all of a sudden?"

He’s shaking. He knows it even before he looks down at his hand and sees his glass rattling quietly against the table. He quickly releases it and runs a hand through his hair instead, decidedly ignoring the dull flare of annoyance simmering under his skin. He barely catches the look of bewilderment Tony gives him from across the table, looking as surprised as Peter feels.

Christ, he needs to get a hold of himself.

He’s about to stammer out an apology when Tony starts talking. "Kid, I’ve always cared, I just suck at showing it." He sighs. “Now, c’mon, lay it on me, spidey. What’s going on?”

Peter searches his face carefully for any hint of insincerity, any evidence that he might be lying; but he finds nothing besides pure earnesty. 

He then closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh, slumping down in his seat. He’s too ashamed to raise his head and look Tony in the eye right now, so he settles with looking at the wall behind him instead. Tony went out of his way to treat him to dinner because he was apparently _worried_ about him -which was honestly more than slightly surprising- and here Peter was acting like a damn _brat_.

"I'm really tired a lot of the time," Peter admits. "All I can fucking see is the goddamn Vulture whenever I so much as close my eyes and how I was all _alone_ a-and how nobody would've known if I-" He stops himself with a ragged intake of breath. "It's- I can barely sleep and it's- _god_ , it's so _stupid."_ He purses his lips and looks down in a poor attempt to hide the tears burning behind his eyes. "But it's fine, at least...it will be fine. I can handle it." He mutters, a weak smile playing across his lips. 

Tony doesn't believe him. It's plain as day on his face as he leans back and folds his arms over his chest. “Yeah? And what about the nightmares? Panic attacks? How are you handling those?” He asks, tilting his head to the side with a frown.

Peter swallows down roughly, his mouth feeling too dry all of a sudden, and he barely resists the urge to fiddle with his sleeves. The action makes him look even younger than he already is, and that's the last thing he wants right now. “Just, y’know, keeping myself distracted, most of the time. Like, with school and- and patrol…” 

“So, what I’m hearing is that you haven’t been handling it.” Tony arches an eyebrow at him and squints, gaze imploring as it searches every corner of Peter's face. 

“No, no, I- I have, honestly, I just…" He trails off, words falling on deaf ears.

It’s not that Peter doesn’t trust Tony. He does, really. That's not why he's beating around the bush as much as he is, he just- _can't_ talk about it. Not to him, not to anyone. Just thinking about the whole disastrous ordeal is making his chest tighten. 

“Kid, take it from someone who’s seen and been through it all, talk to someone.” He says, tone softening just slightly. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be me; I’d honestly prefer for it not to be, heart-to-hearts tend to give me acid reflux. It could be me, if you’re really feeling desperate. But hey, how about your aunt? You could talk to her, sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Peter's eyes widen as a wave of panic washes over him. “Oh, no, no, no- I cannot talk to May about this. It’ll just freak her out, and when she freaks out-“

“-You freak out, yeah. I feel like we’ve had this conversation already." Tony cuts him off with a roll of his eyes. He strokes his goatee exasperatedly, gaze settled on somewhere behind Peter as he sighs deeply. “Fine, it doesn’t have to me be _or_ your aunt then. But what about that friend of yours, Ted? It can even be the scary girl, or your neighbor, your neighbor’s dog, whatever. What matters is that you talk to someone, so that whatever's going on in there-“ He leans forward and boops Peter's forehead with his index finger. “-Can get resolved as soon as possible.”

Peter sighs and curls in on himself like a flower hiding from the cold of the night. “It’s not that easy…” He mumbles, his fingers nervously scratching at the worn spot in his jeans on his left kneecap. 

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Tony chuckles humorlessly, suddenly looking older than Peter has ever seen him. “But it helps, despite what you might think." Then, he sighs, finally shifting to look at Peter straight in the eye. “You show a lot of promise, kid. Don't throw it away by going where I went wrong, you're smarter than that." He sniffs and tilts his chin up, raising his hand to point a stern finger at him.

Peter's lips quirk up into the smallest resemblance of a smile. "Thanks." He laughs faintly before biting his lip. "It's just- everyone has been telling me that I'm- that I'm not alone...and like, I _know_ that I'm not but I just…" He closes his eyes, effectively blocking out the world. Five seconds. He gives himself five seconds to breathe through the anxiety and the pressure building up behind his throat. He takes a deep breath through his mouth -one, two- blows it out -three, four, five- and then he forces his eyes open.

Tony's still looking at him, worry lines wrinkling his forehead while his steely eyes pierce into his soul like diamonds. It's nothing short of unsettling, if he's being honest, and he barely resists the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. But it's touching to know that he at least cares a little.

Peter looks down at his twiddling thumbs and clears his throat. "What if- what if I don't know how to get- y'know, how to get help?" He regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. They sound childish and clumsy and so, so _stupid_. 

But Tony, surprisingly, just smiles. "Then you ask for it. There's no harm in that." He says. “The offer still stands,” He waits until Peter looks at him to continue. “You ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

Peter arches a teasing brow. “I thought you said heart-to-hearts gave you acid reflux?”

Tony shrugs easily. “I can spare one every once in a while. Doesn't mean I'll enjoy it, though."

Peter rolls his jaw, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. "I'll think about it." He replies quietly.

Tony nods, as if satisfied by the answer. "That's all I ask, kid." His lips quirk up at the edges as he sighs deeply, sounding exhausted. "Alright, come on, let's get you home," He says before waving down the waiter to ask her for the check. 

Peter waits until they’re already outside to clear his throat, which makes Tony snap his gaze towards him with an inquisitive hum. “Does- Does it ever get better?" He asks hesitantly, looking up at Tony while biting his lip.

Something softens in his expression then. It's mostly obscured by those damned tinted sunglasses, and it's gone as soon as it came, but Peter catches it anyways; it's a certain gentleness that makes his heart nearly somersault out of his chest. 

"Wish I could tell you it does…" Tony says. "It sucks but, well, unfortunately this all just comes with the job." He waves a hand in the fair and then claps him on the back, exhaling sharply. "But you'll be alright, you're tough." He smirks crookedly at him, ruffling his hair playfully. 

And Peter smiles. For real, this time.

A small part of him is still scared, _terrified_ , even. But another part of him, one that's speaking a bit louder than the one that's so afraid, tells him that he's also not alone in this. Whatever this is. Tony’s gone through it too, he’s _still_ going through it, from what Peter can tell, and that's enough to make the pain in his chest ease a little. 

Someday, he'd be able to talk about it without panicking. He’d be able to recount everything that had happened without a tightness in his chest and without the deeply rooted fear that seemed to have imprinted itself on to him like a tattoo. 

And while that day wasn't going to be either today or tomorrow, it would come. He was sure of it. Especially now that he knew he wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this!🌹💕


End file.
